


Stigma

by Luana Araceli (Luana_Araceli)



Category: Original Work
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, Dominance, Dubious Consent, Fantasy, Gen, Hierarchy, Master/Slave, Non-human Species, Power Dynamics, Prejudice, Slavery, Submission, Trials, halfblood, pureblood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 19:55:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11835915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luana_Araceli/pseuds/Luana%20Araceli





	Stigma

Aiden vaulted over the fence, his sides heaving with exertion. The obstacle course was the last of the trials, the last challenge he had to overcome to finally lift himself out of the dregs of Half-blood society. And, since it came at the end of the trials, it was the most difficult challenge of all – the highest number of Half-bloods who had ever finished the obstacle course in a single year, historically, was fifteen. But that had been the first year the trials were ever offered, and the Purebloods had since escalated the difficulty of the course to a nearly unmanageable level. Now, it was rare for more than three Half-bloods to make it all the way through the trials.

Aiden knew from experience how difficult the trials were – this was his fifth year competing in them. And it was the first year he’d even gotten close to the obstacle course. The heavy training he had done since the end of the trials last spring had paid off. It was rare for a Half-blood to be able to do any training at all, since most of them were forced to do menial labor just to earn enough to put food on the table each night. Aiden had lucked out.

When the trials had ended last spring, Trevon, a renowned coach for the trials, had approached him. The man had seen potential in Aiden, and he had covered Aiden’s expenses for the year leading up to the trials. As always, however, there was a catch – Aiden had to win, or he would be forced to become Trevon’s servant for five years, forbidden from competing in the trials for the duration.

Aiden had stewed over the decision for weeks. He didn’t want to become servant to another Half-blood. There was no honor in that, and it would be virtually impossible to recover from the blow such a happenstance would deal to his reputation. But everyone Trevon had ever trained had ending up crossing the finish line of the obstacle course, everyone Trevon had ever trained had succeeded. That was a powerful influence in the decision Aiden made.

But the stronger influence of what it would mean for him if he managed to get through the trials. Getting through the trials meant no more menial labor. No more backbreaking jobs. Getting through the trials meant becoming a servant to a Pureblood. Sure, Aiden would still be recognizable as a Half-blood – the collar that he’d earn from his Pureblood master would see to that – but at least other Half-bloods would be forced to respect him. After all, the only way to become a servant to a Pureblood was to overcome the trials.

While becoming a servant to a Half-blood if he failed would be an absolutely miserable existence – Trevon was an exacting coach and sure to be a brutal master – one other fact had held Aiden back from immediately saying yes to Trevon’s offer. Half-bloods were only eligible to compete in the trials for five years. The fifth attempt, the one Aiden was on now, was his absolute last chance at achieving his goal.

He had to hand it to Trevon, though, the man knew exactly how to get a Half-blood in peak physical condition. The same methods wouldn’t work on a Pureblood – their physiology was too different – but they had done wonders for Aiden. He vaulted over the bar set twenty feet in the air, landing gracefully on his feet, and kept running. He ran like his life depended on it (because it did!) and he scrambled up the three hundred foot climbing wall that was angled perilously close to the ground. Once he was over the wall, he jumped up onto the monkey bars that spanned over five miles of terrain, and concentrated on putting one hand in front of the other.

The obstacle course was designed to be impossible for a Half-blood. It was designed for the Purebloods to be able to separate out the best of the Half-bloods to become their servants. Purebloods had an incredible amount of physical stamina, and the obstacle course Aiden was sweating over now, doggedly forcing himself to get through despite the ache in his back, the strain in his shoulders, and the exhaustion threatening to drag him down – well, this obstacle course wouldn’t give even the weakest Pureblood a challenge.

No one knew where Half-bloods came from. Because there was only a single race, the vampiric one, and somehow, sometimes Purebloods gave birth to Half-bloods. The term Half-blood wasn’t technically accurate because a Half-blood wasn’t a mixed race. There was only the one race, after all. No, the reason that Half-bloods were called Half-bloods was because a Pureblood had determined by the time the first Half-blood was in his teens, that the man was only ever going to be half as effective as a Pureblood. When the man’s blood was tested, it was found that a mutation in his blood cells was the culprit of his diminished efficiency.

There was no need for those who couldn’t work at more than half capacity, so, originally, Half-bloods had been thrown out into the streets. When a Pureblood couple had children, they immediately got their child tested. If the mutation occurred within that child, then the infant was tossed into the street and left for dead. It was a defect, an abomination, and there was no need for such creatures.

It took fifty years for that mindset to change, and the Pureblood woman who had changed it, Reina Mayana, was the one Aiden had to thank for his very existence, as well as for the trials she had implemented. Reina’s first child had been a Half-blood boy, and she decided, rather than throw it to the elements, to raise the child and teach him how to work. The menial labor she dreaded, she had him do. It was when she realized the benefits of having Half-bloods do the menial labor that Purebloods despised that the world started to change.

Rather than throw Half-bloods to the elements, Purebloods started reading their Half-blood children and allowing them to do the tedious work they hated. This, in turn, freed the Purebloods up to focus on more important matters – namely, running the country, but also contributing in areas like philosophy, historical research, psychological research, medical research, and other areas on which progress hinged. Half-bloods were trusted with the physical labor, but only the labor that their bodies were capable of handling.

Farm-work was common amongst Half-bloods, as was mining, factory work, construction, and running the food markets. No Half-blood could ever rise above that type of work – they were only half-equipped, after all.

But Reina, as she watched her children grow – five out of thirteen of them had been born Half-bloods – she realized that some of them were stronger than others. Some of them had the potential to be more than just a menial labor worker. And that was when the trials had been born.

 

There was no real promotion of the event – Purebloods didn’t want to encourage Half-bloods to participate in the trials because Half-blood participation often resulted in death for the participants. The trials were designed, after all, to locate the Half-bloods with the potential to be more than just a labor worker. The Half-bloods with a slight edge over the rest, the ones that could do three quarters of the work of a Pureblood rather than only a half of the work.

Competing in the trials five times in a row was possible but unusual. Half-bloods who were dissatisfied with menial labor typically tried their hand at the trials once. Then, once they realized just how much physicality was truly involved, they let go of the dream of ever moving up in the world and settled back into the steady rhythm of menial work.

A few, however, stayed the course and kept trying. Year after year, they returned to the trials, determined to prove they were strong enough to move up. Strong enough to contribute more to society. And, at first, there had been Half-bloods were participated every year. For the first twenty years that the trials were implemented, a Half-blood could try their hand at them however many times they wished.

But Reina quickly realized that Half-bloods were taking advantage of the system. There were many who would start the trials, get through the first task, then forfeit the other events. That was a waste of valuable resources – the trials were expensive to set up, and Reina was dedicated to making sure that the trials continued indefinitely. Those who managed to survive the trials were incredible assets to Purebloods, working as secretaries, personal assistants, and taking on other supporting roles as they arose. But the Half-bloods who wouldn’t take the trials seriously had started to give them a bad name, and the Purebloods had started to pull away from them.

Then Reina had come up with an amazing plan. Half-bloods would only be allowed to compete in the trials for a total of five years, and those years didn’t have to be consecutive. However, if a Half-blood didn’t get at least halfway through the trials on their first attempt, then they were barred from ever competing again. This solution dropped the number of participants at an incredible rate, and the number of Half-bloods who failed far outmatched the number of those who succeeded.

The lack of success became renowned quickly throughout the Half-blood world, and that knowledge discouraged more and more Half-bloods from making even their first attempt at the trials. Today, on his fifth attempt, there were only nine Half-bloods competing in the trials. Of those nine, only three of them had made it to the obstacle course. Some years, only one Half-blood made it all the way through. Other years, none of them did. Still others, two or three might make it. It was never a set number because the difficulty of the trials changed every year.

Aiden knew first-hand how terrifying the changing nature of the trials could be. There was never a set number of events, and there was never a set pattern for the obstacle course at the end. The only consistency at all was that there  _ was  _ an obstacle course at the end, and it was  _ always _ the most difficult trial any of the Half-bloods ever faced.

Without the training Trevon had given him, Aiden knew he wouldn’t have made it past the third trial. He wouldn’t have even known to expect it if Trevon hadn’t known that it was a possibility. Of all the Half-bloods, there were only a handful of them who worked as coaches for the trials. And, to work as a trainer, the Half-blood in question had to have passed the trials himself. And they would have had to pass the trials a minimum of twelve times.

While it was impossible for a Half-blood who hadn’t won the trials to compete in them more than five times, a Half-blood who made it through had the life-long right to compete in them however many more times they wanted. When Aiden made it through this set of trials, he would be granted the privilege of running the trials every year until he died. Depending on which Pureblood ended up holding his contract, it was very possible that he would have to run them every year. Many Purebloods prided themselves on the physical excellence their Half-blood servants possessed – and, in fact, insisted on it. There was no penalty for failing to get through the trials a second time, as the variable nature of the trials made them impossible for anyone to predict. It was believed that a Half-blood who had passed the trials at least twelve times would have enough knowledge and understanding of the changing variations of the trials to be able to coach other valuable Half-bloods into and through the competition.

So when Trevon had approached him, Aiden knew he had lucked out. For a trainer to approach a competitor meant that a Pureblood had to have seen him and saw potential in him. A Half-blood trainer would never act without the permission of their Pureblood owner. It just wasn’t done. And that, eventually, had been the deciding factor for him. That had been the reason he chose to accept Trevon’s after. The knowledge that there was a Pureblood out there rooting for him kept him going even when his lungs threatened to betray him. Even as he hung on the monkey bars, forcing himself forward one rung at a time, desperately wishing he dared to let go, desperately wishing the end of the course was in sight, that was the drive that kept him going.

Somewhere out there was a Pureblood who wanted him. Who saw potential in him that no one else ever had – potential enough to get him trained and ready for the event. And that drove Aiden on like nothing else. Because everyone else in his life had always laughed at him. Always mocked him for never finishing the trials and for not dropping out and doing the menial work it was obvious was the only work that he was capable of. But Aiden knew. He’d always known. He wasn’t meant to drudge away his existence on a farm or in a mine – he was meant for something better. Something more than this. Because he was cursed with an intellect that surpassed all his Half-blood peers, he knew that he would never be accepted in their ranks. He would never fit in. And if he could never fit in, there was no reason to push himself into a situation where he would never be comfortable. He couldn’t do that to himself – his pride wouldn’t let him.

And it wasn’t like Aiden didn’t know there were downsides to being the servant of a Pureblood. Servants had a lot less freedom – they were always expected to be wherever their Pureblood Master happened to be, and they were expected to be able to maintain absolute body stillness and complete silence for however long their Masters saw fit. But in return for this obedience, they were allowed access to knowledge that no other Half-bloods could ever hope to see. They were allowed access to libraries and computers – things the general population of Half-bloods were ever allowed to access.

Aiden saw the wisdom in that, too. It was very possible that a Half-blood who got ahold of a revolutionary book might take it upon themselves to start a rebellion with the Purebloods. It didn’t take a genius to figure out how easily the Purebloods could – and would – crush the Half-bloods given half a reason, but the massacre would be viewed as an economic loss. Purebloods weren’t keen to lose their labor workers, so it made sense that they kept Half-bloods from accessing sensitive information.

The only reason Aiden could even speculate about such an occurrence was an instance from his childhood. His father had left a book on the desk in his study, and Aiden had been taught to read. All workers were taught how to read, usually with flash cards and children’s books, and they were taught to read because having workers unable to read the instructions on how to operate heavy machinery would have been a hindrance to Purebloods. Anything the Purebloods viewed as a potential hassle, they gave over to Half-bloods.

Still, just because they were taught to read didn’t mean Half-bloods could read anything other than the very few children’s books allotted to them. But Aiden’s father had left a history book laying on the table in his study, and, Aiden, who was only around eight years old at the time, hadn’t known that there were rules against Half-bloods reading certain types of books. When his father had found him, Aiden had been strapped severely for the transgression, and he never tried to open another book.

Even when his father had purposely left out tomes of books, the only thing Aiden ever read were the titles. He didn’t touch them, didn’t open their pages, didn’t try to glean knowledge from them. They were off-limits. He was a Half-blood. And he was smart. He wasn’t afraid of being beaten by his father, although that was a very real threat when he was growing up. If he didn’t figure out the rules himself, his father helped him figure them out very quickly with the use of his strap.

And the rules weren’t voiced. They were woven into society, and Aiden quickly learned that he was not part of the Pureblood elite. And he never would be. When he had first realized that, the realization had stung him. The weight of that truth had haunted him for months. He was a lesser being, and he was going to have to accept that truth, as hard as it was to stomach, and live his life within the constraints he was allowed.

One day, after a few months of consistently leaving out books for Aiden to stumble upon, his father approached him. “Because you know that you have no right to this knowledge, and I know that you will not try and access it even without me being present, I will allow you access to the library. You may look, but you may never touch. And that will always be the case.”

Aiden looked at his father with tears in his eyes, then went down on one knee and bowed from the waist. It was the etiquette of a Half-blood slave, etiquette that he had been drilled in since the day he had been born. To be allowed into his father’s library – to be able to just look at the spines of the books and read the titles. It was a privilege Aiden knew he would never take for granted. A privilege he would never allow to have taken away from him, as he would never dare to presume upon his father’s good graces. After all, his father was a Pureblood. An elite. For him to allow Aiden even this much was an astonishing act of kindness.

While Aiden grew, he could always be found in one of two places – outside, running around the woods or in the hills, or in his father’s library, sitting properly in a chair, hands folded on his lap, drinking in the beautiful sight of the books that surrounded him. He never got the urge to go to a book and open it.

Because the first book he had ever opened and read – the first book his father had ever left out in sight of him – had been a history book. And it had detailed the trials. What those trials were for. And that was the moment he had decided he was going to compete in them. No matter what, he was going to compete in the trials, and he was going to win. Because that was one choice no one could ever take from him. The one choice a Pureblood would never have to make, never need to make, and that made it uniquely his.

Growing up, none of his friends had understood Aiden’s obsession with the trials. To them, it was just a contest of physicality, nothing more. It wasn’t a lifeline to a different world. But Aiden knew. Just the few pages he’d read in the one book he had opened in his father’s study had opened his mind to the world in a way he had never expected for it to be opened. He could never be a Pureblood. That was true, and it would never change. But he could be more than a Half-blood. He could fight for the right to do something more with his life than be forced to work on a farm, in a mine, or in a factory. While he still couldn’t be a Pureblood, he could at least be the servant of one.

And he had more going for him than a lot of Half-bloods. He was his father’s only son, and that made it difficult for his father to handle him. But it also meant that Aiden got training in the etiquette of a Pureblood slave at the hand of a Pureblood. It meant he would rarely ever mess up in the presence of a Pureblood, and that gave him a way to make his father proud. If he couldn’t be a Pureblood, then at least he could be slave to one. In that way, he would save his father from embarrassment.

Even with that plan, however, Aiden hadn’t counted on the insane level of difficultly of the trials. The first time he had competed, he had barely managed to get past the second set before he collapsed. When he had come home, his father hadn’t said anything, but he hadn’t needed to. The disappointment was written all over his face. The result was the same the next three times Aiden came home. Aiden coming home was testament to his failure, and the hope that Aiden had used to see in his father’s eyes had quickly turned to the expectation of disappointment.

And that disappointment killed Aiden. Because he knew he was smart. He knew he could overcome the trials. But something was holding him back. And, until Trevon had come along, he couldn’t have pinpointed what it was that kept him from reaching the obstacle course.

All of that was moot now. Here he was, finally reaching the end of the monkey bars. Finally, he was on the obstacle course. Finally, he was in the last set of the trials. All he had left to do now was endure it until the end. Then, and only then, could he say with certainty that he was worth all the effort his father had invested in training him. Only then could he say that Trevon hadn’t chosen wrong. Only then could he say that the Pureblood who had seen potential in him had made the right choice. Only then could he finally lift himself out of Half-blood society and enter the realm of the Purebloods.

After coming so far, there was no way Aiden was going to give up. Not after everything that had come before. Not after everything everyone had invested in him. Not after everything he had invested in himself. With that thought in mind, he dropped from the monkey bars and started running forward, his mind racing with thoughts of what the next obstacle could be and how he would handle it. Purely focused on what he needed to do to get through, he barely registered his feet moving across the red line that had been drawn in the street to mark the end of the course.

As he ran across the line, Trevon came out to the center of the road so that Aiden was forced to come to a stop. Looking at the confusion on Aiden’s face, Trevon gripped him by the shoulders and laughed. “Look around kid, you made it!”

Stunned by the words coming from his coach, Aiden spun around and spotted the line and smiled. Then he dropped to the ground, sheer exhaustion weighing him down.

“You’re the last one,” Trevon said. “The other two dropped out at the climbing wall. You’re the only one who made it across the line. You need to stand up.”

Aiden groaned but forced himself to his feet, his legs trembling with the effort it took to keep himself standing.

“Come with me,” Trevon sad. “It’s time for you to be presented to your Master.”

Aiden’s eyes came alive with delight, and he stood straighter. “Lead the way,” he said. No matter what, no matter who it was, Aiden was finally gaining his entrance into the Pureblood world. He had finally reached his goal.

Trevon steered him towards a slender Pureblood who was leaning against the fence, watching with mild interest as Aiden was dragged closer to him.

Trevon bent at the waist. “Master Nolan, I present you with your new slave. His name is Aiden.”

Nolan’s eyes turned towards Aiden for the first time. Without being prompted, Aiden slid to his knees in a formal kneel, clasped his hands behind his back, tucked his chin, and lowered his eyes. “Master,” he said.

Nolan raised an eyebrow. “You have formal training?” he asked.

“Yes, Master.”

“That makes this a little easier, then. Trevon, go back to your master. Thank him for his interference in my affairs, and tell him I’ll discuss his impertinence later.”

Trevon grimaced but gave a half-bow. “Yes, Master Nolan.”

Nolan sighed. “Aiden, while I must admit that I am impressed that you made it through the trials, I am rather put out with how my brother has manipulated this affair. Since I am my father’s Heir, my brother insisted that I take a slave. He picked you out for himself. The plan was for him to take you, and I would take another slave who finished the trials. Seeing as you are the only one who succeeded, however, I’ve no choice but to steal you from him. And this is problematic, as my taste in slaves and my brother’s taste in slaves are very different things. I did not want you, but I have you anyway. It is unfair to you, but it is the way of the world. Come.”

Nolan didn’t wait for an answer. He clicked his fingers, and Aiden rose to his feet without a word, carefully keeping his face void of emotion. Inside, however, his mind was in turmoil. How was he even supposed to process everything Nolan had just told him? He was still caught up in the victory of the trials. Whether Nolan wanted him or not – that mattered. He could feel at the edge of his mind that it mattered. But he couldn’t figure out why. His success was drowning out his doubts, and, besides, it didn’t matter what doubts he had. He belonged to Nolan now. And that was all that mattered.


End file.
